


i'm a hex girl (and i'm gonna put a spell on you)

by writing_addict



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, BAMF Winry Rockbell, Dhampir Edward Elric, Edween Week 2020, F/M, I GOT IT OUT ON HALLOWEEN BITCHES IM ON TIME, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Romance, Trick or Treat: Treat, Vampire Winry Rockbell, Winry Rockbell-centric, bit of both for flare, yes i watched castlevania this week and what about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addict/pseuds/writing_addict
Summary: It's your usual boy-meets-girl, girl and boy fall in love, happily-ever-after kind of story. Except the girl is an ancient vampire and the boy doesn't know what the hell he is, and maybe they're not in love yet...but they're sure as hell in something.It might be trouble.Or:My fic for Edween week! Prompt: Full Moon, featuring vampire Winry, a college party, and some of that sweet, sweet tension.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	i'm a hex girl (and i'm gonna put a spell on you)

**Author's Note:**

> who's ready to uhhhh love winry rockbell, show of hands

Winry should know better than to consort with these creatures.

At least, that’s what the Elders say about her (as if she’s not one of them, as if she’s not _the_ one, the eldest and most powerful of their kind to still walk the earth). She’s too old, too refined to walk among humans, to pretend her heart still beats. The fledglings flock eagerly to the gathering places of their people, desperate to be inducted into the glittering dance that is the true Nightlife: the world of demons and dragons, witches and sirens, werewolves and vampires. They want all-too badly to be separated from the human world they were Turned from, weary of the Daylight and challenges that come with it. The enticing, hidden kingdoms and cities and communities within and beneath the Daylight world are, she must admit, beautiful beyond measure, filled with learning and light and _magic,_ but…

She can barely remember what it was like to have a heart that beats, but she _does_ remember her sire telling her this, when the world was new and people still believed in monsters: _When you are as old as I am, little fledgling, old beyond measure, you begin to stagnate—to stop caring. Nothing amuses you, or surprises you, or makes your heart stir. You watch it all play out, and yet you refuse to die, for fear that the rumors are true and we are a damned, damned people. But you are not really living then, either._ And then, softly, a gentle hand stroking back her hair— _You, little fledgling, make me remember that I was human. You surprise me. You…you make an old woman’s heart remember what it was like to beat._

_Thank you._

She hadn’t understood the words of her sire, her lady. Not then. Like so many of the new fledglings, she had been dazzled and frightened and delighted by the magic, the learning, the promise of _eternity_. Her parents had died, and she had watched their patients die in their homes, taken by sickness and pain that ancient medicine could not heal. She hated the thought of death—and the thought of what life as a young woman would leave her with. There had been no choices for her then, but in vampire society, the women were equal—valued— _important._ She could be a scholar. A historian.

And now here she is, millennia later. A scholar, a historian, a genius—and the most ancient vampire. The most _powerful_. A Queen to rule all the Nightlife, should she choose it.

She didn’t. She doesn’t want a throne. She has watched human societies rise and fall at the hands of tyrants, and bears no interest in becoming one herself (no matter how the other Elders watch her, waiting for her to strike and wondering why she leaves the Nightlife—they never do). Tyranny begets suffering, and Winry, though a vampire, is the daughter of doctors. She has no interest in suffering. Or stagnating.

She knows every inch of the immortal world of the Nightlife. What she does _not_ know anymore are the changing, flickering lives of the humans, and that _excites_ her. Her unbeating heart stirs in her chest when she’s among them, leaping when they surprise her, when they refuse to follow a script. There is always something new to learn, some new game to play, some new evolution reached. Humans live so briefly, and so they strive to change so _much._

And gods, they’re alive—beautifully, wonderfully, _unapologetically_ alive.

She flits among them now, “invited” to this oh-so secretive party by one of her classmates (it’s perhaps the seventeenth degree she’s gone back for, but there have been _fascinating_ developments in neuroscience and she’s too entranced by human innovation to turn away—they fear death and yet flirt with it so much, but there are those among them that care so much for the lives of those around them that they’ll dig through the depths of their genius to save them. Even without magic, without power, with nothing but soft bodies and beating hearts, they love and thrive and learn with reckless abandon) who told her the location as though it was some great mystery she had to unravel. She doesn’t tell the clever young woman that she was told the plot to kill Cesar from Brutus’s own lips, that she has heard the secrets of a thousand lives—just smiles, and promises eagerly that she’ll be there. She’s not pretending to be excited; she truly _is._ These aren’t Nightlife revels of glimmering illusion and magic, they’re signs of Daylighter life. Unpredictable and wild and ever-changing. If anything, they’re a reflection of the world she still haunts.

That, and it’s nice to let herself be a face in the crowd—to let loose and have _fun,_ listening to new music and talking to new people, the sweet scent of their blood thick in the air. Usually she hides her nature during these parties, but given that it’s a _Halloween_ celebration…well, she thinks she’s entitled to let loose a little bit.

Winry doesn’t glamour her natural _charm_ today, of course, lets the living flush of blood drain from her skin, leaving it ivory-pale and chilled to the touch, smooth and unscarred. Needle-sharp white fangs poke against red-painted lips, her face going from human and pretty to the unearthly beauty that’s sung of throughout the ancient world—goddesses of beauty, the night, of passion and death. She suspects the dress does not help—she lies, of course, to her classmates, tells them she saved up for it for _months_ and spent weeks parading around her apartment in once it arrived, pretending to be exactly what she is—but the blood-like drips of shimmering fabric from the laces across the otherwise-open back and the starry array of diamonds (rhinestones, she tells them all) along the skirt hardly detract from the mystery.

Ironic, that on a night of masks and mischief, she reveals the truth of what she is—removes her own mask as everyone dons theirs. Deliciously ironic, honestly. She can’t get enough of the compliments telling her how damn cool her fangs look. _Just like the real thing._

_No shit._

The music is so loud she can barely hear herself think (just the way she likes it, on nights like these), the drink in her hand half-gone. One of her sort-of friends shouts something to her and she laughs, throwing her head back—she barely hears a word, something about _That’s your fifth tonight, aren’t you worried about class?—_ and draining the rest of it. She winks at the girl (pretty—dark hair, dark eyes, lean and strong) and sets her glass down, sauntering toward the bar with a wicked curve of her lips. It’s been a while since she went home with someone—maybe this’ll be worth her while.

Then something flashes out of the corner of her eye, and she blinks, turning toward it. The light of someone’s phone, she suspects, or a camera, or some shimmery bit of jewelry or metal. Nothing interesting.

Golden eyes flick up to meet hers, and she blinks again.

_Oh. Very interesting._

He’s not paying attention—to anyone, really, sipping on some amber liquid and leaning against the wall. His eyes skate over her again, disinterested, and Winry hums quietly in interest. _Ten bucks says he got dragged here,_ she can’t help theorizing to herself, grinning at the human phrasing before making up her mind. She’ll treat the girl to an expensive bottle of wine to make up for making her worry, but she likes _this one_ now. He’s a. very pretty, more than she’d expect of a human, and b. new. She’s never seen him before, not at any function, and she’s been here for two years now—she’s sure she would recognize his face. Hard to forget someone who looks like _that._

He’s not paying attention.

In the old world, that would have meant death. Winry’s not looking to feed off of him, though (not right now, anyways—if that’s still on the table for later, then, well…she’d rather talk to him properly first). She weaves through the crowd, letting the music drown herself out as she focuses in on his heartbeat, fangs sliding out involuntarily, her hand brushing his shoulder after a moment.

He’s warm. Alive.

It’s amazing that even after all this time, she can still miss it.

He whips around toward her as soon as her hand makes contact, golden eyes flashing (not honey-colored or smooth caramel, but as golden as coins) before he exhales and crosses his arms over his chest. “Warn me before you grab me next time.”

Hells, his voice is lovely, too. Smooth and melodic, but…sharp. “Sorry,” she says, and means it. “Winry Rockbell. You look like you’re looking for a change of scenery.” She tilts her head to the side, blonde hair spilling artfully over her shoulder as she arches an eyebrow. “This not your thing?”

He scowls—tries to, because the corner of his mouth twitches up wryly after a moment. “Edward Elric. And yeah, I’m…not really a fan of parties, I guess. Or costumes. Yours is pretty good, though.” He tilts his head up at her (she doesn’t relish that extra inch she has on him—she swears she doesn’t). “Very classy vampire.”

She snorts at that—it’s undignified, but she can’t help herself. “I’m simply bursting with gratitude for your compliments. I can’t offer you the same, though.”

“I _had_ a headband with devil horns on it. My brother stole it—said I looked stupid.”

“I think I agree with your brother.”

He barks a laugh, and she feels…pleased with herself. For making him laugh. Hells, maybe she did drink too much. She might love the Daylight world, but getting attached to them is never safe. Though she can’t really call this attachment—maybe just…attraction. For now. “Tough crowd, huh?”

She shrugs, grinning lazily at him. “If the shoe fits. Or the headband.” She tilts her head toward the door. “…If you want to step out, I wouldn’t mind going with you.”

Golden eyes snap towards her again, bright and intrigued. “You sure?”

 _Hardly. You’re a human._ “Absolutely,” she says instead, already stalking for the door and beckoning him with a crook of her fingers. “I think I could use some fresh air. Sobering up and all that.” Ed huffs quietly, falling into step beside her as she pushes the door open. The sidewalk outside the bar is glistening, the air cold and damp, and she tips her head back slightly as moonlight pools around them. A full moon on Halloween—the first in many, many years. The revels back in the Nightlife’s kingdoms must be spectacular, but…she’d rather be here.

“You’re not cold.”

“Should I be?”

Ed hums quietly, before arching an eyebrow. “You’re not breathing either.”

Her heart would stop if it still beat.

“Your breath would condensate if you were,” he clarifies, exhaling a little, a tiny puff of cloud forming. Winry stares down at him as he grins up at her. _He knows—he figured it out—foolish—out of practice, got caught—_ and then, resigned— _he’s going to want to be Turned_. “Don’t worry. I’m not a hunter or anything. And I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

“If I Turn you,” Winry mutters. Because that’s how this always goes—the human figures out, wants to be Turned, to be young and beautiful forever. To go to a world where there’s nothing but magic, nothing but wonder, and stay there. To forget what makes life so…magical. “I won’t—”

“I don’t need to be Turned.”

She blinks in surprise, before glancing his way again. He crosses his arms smugly, before his grin widens, displaying sharp little needle-fangs. Not long enough to be a full vampire’s, and his heart is still beating, but…he’s not shivering from the cold either, coat or no coat. And without the music pumping, she can hear the difference in his heartbeat. Something…slower. Human in part, but also… _not._ And those eyes—

 _Of course._ “You’re a dhampir,” Winry breathes in amazement—true, genuine amazement, because this is _new._ There hasn’t been a dhampir in millennia—since before she was Turned. The living child of a vampire and a human, impossibly rare and as powerful as any vampire, but with the warmth and lifeblood of a human. When they died a human death, they would become wholly vampire, but until then…they lived.

Ed shrugs, smile faltering. “I’ve heard that’s the term. All I know is that I’ve got these—” he taps one of the fangs with a finger “—and that my dad wasn’t human—but I guess if you know what I am, that means he’s…one of you. I’m not here to find him,” he adds before she can even ask. “I was looking for _you.”_

 _Oh. Well, look at that—I’m famous._ “For me,” she repeats, arching an eyebrow. “And why, exactly, are you looking for me?”

“You’re the most powerful vampire in the world, and the most knowledgeable—Hecate, right? Goddess of magic. That’s what the Greeks knew you as.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“I like to be prepared before I enter a deal with anyone.”

Winry clicks her tongue softly, intrigued despite herself. “A deal?”

Ed inhales, exhales. Winry feels a flicker of curiosity, nostalgia. _I wonder what that feels like._ “I want to learn magic, and I want to learn from the best.” Golden eyes blaze fiercely, wild and…captivating. “And you’re the best.”

“Flirt,” she drawls, and is pleased when he blushes. “And what do I get out of it?”

He huffs again, looking downright pouty. “Less boredom. And…free blood. I mean, half-human works, right? It’s gotta suck draining blood bags or drinking from butchers and stuff. You get a fresh food source, I get to learn magic. Win-win.”

 _Huh._ “You’d better taste damn good,” she mutters, but…well, the first half of his reasoning is enticing. She’s hardly _bored_ in that she has nothing to do, but she’s worried that the Daylighter world is about to stop being surprising, intriguing, full of wonder—she’s worried she’ll start to stagnate. But Ed is…

He’s exciting. New. She doesn’t know him, or his kind, has never _met_ someone like him before.

He’s…a mystery.

Hells, does she love a mystery.

“You’ve got a deal, Elric,” she purrs, holding her hand out. He takes it, after a moment—his fingers are rough, his palms smooth, but _warm._ So warm. “Make it interesting, won’t you?”

Golden eyes meet hers, and her heart would skip if it still beat as he grins arrogantly. “Same to you, Rockbell.”

Her smirk widens, and his flashes playfully just as the full moon beams bright, the world flashing silver—

When a pair of drunk seniors stumble out of the bar moments later, drinks in hand and calling for the pretty girl who just walked out with the stranger, there’s not even a shadow left. Nothing but the moon shining over them all.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed this fic! the banter and winry's inner monologues were probably my favorite parts to write, but let me know what you liked best in the comments! leave a kudos or a review if you liked it, and i'll see you next time <3 happy halloween!


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